


three is better than none

by monkkeyslut



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Awkward Clarke, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Polygamy, Sneaky Lexa and Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkkeyslut/pseuds/monkkeyslut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke really needs to stop kissing people. It would probably end at least fifty percent of her problems.</p><p>Or, Clarke is a hot commodity and she doesn't know how she feels about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three is better than none

**Author's Note:**

> So this stemmed from me wanting Bellamy/Clarke/Lexa but also wanting to do it right. So hopefully this cracky, goofy version is alright. This is also my first time writing the actual characters of The 100 so be gentle.

Clarke has a slight problem. Two slight problems, actually, which aren’t even that slight. And possibly not problems? She isn’t really sure, to be honest. The last time she had to deal with feelings and someone liking her she--

Well. She doesn’t want to think about that.

Anyway, her problem started with Lexa kissing her. That isn’t a problem, Clarke thinks, so much as a roadblock. Clarke liked kissing Lexa, and she actually likes Lexa, but she’s also helping lead an army, and dealing with some bad stuff (like letting an entire village get blown up, or killing--) and she didn’t have time to think on it, not then.

Her problems escalated when she finally spotted Bellamy inside Mount Weather. She was being chased down a hallway by three soldiers and she lost her gun somewhere and she really didn’t like her odds of fighting these guys off. One second, she’s sprinting into a hallway; the next three men are dropped behind her, dead.

Bellamy looked very dirty and battered and probably like the best thing Clarke had seen in forty-five minutes. She leaned over and braced her hands on her knees, chest heaving and breasts aching (she is not built for running) and she said, “Hey, thanks,” seconds before Bellamy pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, not unlike the one from a few weeks ago.

Clarke returned the hug without protest, gripping his shoulders so tight she was sure they would bruise. “I’m really glad you’re alright,” she whispered after a few moments, then, “and thanks for not dying on me.”

Bellamy responded in a dry press of his mouth to hers. Clarke responded by being shocked and kissing him back.

This seems to be a trend for her.

Now, nearly a month and a half later, Clarke is still very unsure about a lot of things. Like, for instance, where she and Bellamy stand. Or she and Lexa. She is also unsure if Octavia has forgiven her, because the girl is playing hot and cold, and not the good kind, according to Monty.

Clarke is also not sure where she stands with Raven, but the girl seems to like hearing about Clarke’s trials in love, so there is that.

“I haven’t eaten in like, a day,” Clarke says, chewing on a very stale piece of meat that Raven pulled out of somewhere. “So thank you. For this. And for listening. I can stop whenever--”

“It’s fine,” Raven says, voice tinny as she speak behind a welding mask. The sparks of her welding gun are very intimidating, and Raven doesn’t seem to be doing anything useful, just welding a bunch of pieces of metal together. However, who is Clarke to judge. “Why are you avoiding them? Or--how? You’re like our leader, I guess, and Bellamy is more or less your second. Probably more. If this were a monarchy, you’d both be the King. And you’re always having meetings with Lexa.”

Clarke is very aware how difficult avoiding them has been. The only times she’s seen Lexa have been during meetings where her mother and Kane were present, as well as several important Grounders. The only times she’s seen Bellamy have been nearly every fucking day. She wishes he spent more time with Octavia and Lincoln.

Raven has stopped welding and seems to be looking at Clarke, though the blonde can’t see through the mask. “I...really don’t know. Luck?”

“Hate to break it to you, Clarke,” Raven says, turning back to welding. “But everyone’s luck runs out sometime.”

Clarke pretends not to hear the bitterness in her voice and leaves to make it to the med bay on time. It’s her turn for rotation.

* * *

 

Dammit, is her first thought upon entering the med bay. I could just leave, is her second, but Clarke is...she’s not a coward, and they’ve already seen her, so.

She didn’t think Bellamy would get hurt in order to talk to her. She also didn’t think Lexa would either, but here they are, sitting on the same bed and nursing their own wounds which Clarke is sure are from some sort of fight, probably with each other, the idiots.

Jackson gives her a very significant look when he spots her, then looks very significantly at Lexa and Bellamy. Her mother is nowhere to be found, and Clarke can only count it as a blessing.

She shucks off her jacket as she makes her way to the two idiots sitting beside each other, and places her hands on her hips for good measure. She’s not sure she looks very intimidating, but she hopes so. “What are you two morons doing here?”

Lexa’s lips purse, and Bellamy glares off behind Clarke’s shoulder. He’s the first the speak. “Looking for you, princess.”

Clarke narrows her eyes. “Tell me you didn’t go and stab yourself so you could see me.”

“No,” Lexa snaps before Bellamy can reply. “But since it seems the only way to get an audience with you anymore, we did go hunting.”

“Hunting for what?” Clarke presses a hand to her forehead, exasperated. These idiots.

“Mountain Lion,” Lexa says at the same second Bellamy joyfully declares, “Did you know there’s a gorilla?”

* * *

 

Lexa’s wound is more or less superficial. All it takes is a band-Aid and a metaphorical kiss and she’ll be fine. Bellamy’s scrape comes from a rusty pipe, because why the fuck not? Clarke is not as nice when she patches him up, but he deserves it.

By the time they’re finished, Jackson has finished with his own patients and is puttering around uselessly, probably lingering so he can hear whatever is about to go on between CLarke and her...patients, so he can tell her mother. Which, well okay. Clarke has done the same before, but that was on the Ark.

She doesn’t get a chance to dismiss Jackson (doesn’t really have the authority, what with her not being Chancellor) because Lexa quietly murmurs, “Can we go somewhere to talk? Privately.”

Bellamy gives Clarke a hard look that conveys pretty much exactly what they want to talk about, but Clarke has nowhere to run and no excuse to give, so with her stomach clenching uncomfortably, she nods and leads the way to her small tent outside the station.

Her tent is small and neat. Any extra clothing she has it resting on a chair a Grounder woman made her after she helped her little one get over a crazy version of the flu two weeks ago. Her bed is made and her only personal item not on her actual person are a few coloured pencils and a pen, tied together with a string and resting on a tiny notebook that Finn--

“So,” Clarke clears her throat and looks toward Lexa and Bellamy, who both look too big and intimidating to be in her tiny little tent. Jeez. “What’s going on?” She tries to put on her serious face. Tries to be the Clarke who decided to run with Lexa from Tondc, who closed the dropship doors on Bellamy, who looked Raven in the eyes and promised to do something she couldn’t.

Instead, she probably looks a lot like Clarke who saw what a missile did to innocent people, if the look Bellamy and Lexa exchanged is anything to go by. And wow how long has she been avoiding them that they can talk through looks? This is terrible. It doesn’t help that Lexa’s hair is a hot mess and she’s wearing a shirt that leaves little to the imagination, and Bellamy is growing a beard or a goatee and he looks like a--a, god. Clarke needs to control herself.

“We have both come to the conclusion that something has happened between us,” Lexa begins, hands folded placidly in front of her. Clarke watches the movement, then meets the Commander’s eyes before looking away again.

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair, wincing as he catches on a few tangles. “Yeah. And we’re uh, it’s uh...cool? I mean, we’re both fine with you kissing both of us.”

Clarke’s eyebrows rise, and her mouth falls open. She closes it again quickly, nearly biting her tongue in the process. They’ve--they’re okay with--what?

Lexa is nodding, like this is all okay. “This is not an uncommon occurrence between Grounders, either. I think it would suit all of our needs, if you would...not be opposed to it, of course.”

Well, how can you say no to Grounder customs? A voice that sounds strangely like--well. It’s not a terrible idea, considering she has a huge crush on both of them. It would probably solve a lot of things, like Clarke’s whole avoiding-them-issue.

But... “Can I get back to you on this?”

Her suitors look surprised at her question. Clarke bristles. DId they think she would just give up? They must not know her. Or maybe they didn’t think she would be alright with it? Either way, she has to consult Raven on this. The girl was a guru when it came to crap like this.

Lexa’s face becomes a smooth mask of nothing and Bellamy looks awkward. Clarke counts it as a win and announces as she passes, “I’ll meet you back here at sunset.”

* * *

 

“They both want to fuck you?”

Octavia looks dubious and like she’s about to start in on Clarke with a rant about not hurting Bellamy, but Raven’s deafening laugh distracts both the girls.

She’s bent over her work desk, cackling into an old radio. Octavia snorts a little, like maybe she wants to laugh but the thought of her brother getting naked with someone also makes her sick, and Clarke mostly wants to shut herself in the med bay and never deal with anyone again. Seriously. “This is a serious thing. I need your--your something!”

Raven looks up, still giggling, while Octavia turns back to Clarke, shrugging. “Hey, Lincoln and I aren’t the most conventional couple either, so. It’s not like you’d be sticking out like a sore thumb.”

“Except that they’re all VIPs,” Raven says flippantly, looking at Clarke with her chin in her hand. Clarke deflates. “Still, what a sandwich that would be to get in between.”

“Ew, that’s my brother,” Octavia groans, tugging on a braid. “Although the Commander...”

“Shut up,” Clarke sighs, looking up at the ceiling. She thought coming here would help but...well the only thing it’s doing is relieving a bit of the stress that;s settled heavy between her shoulders. Actually, when she thinks about it, this is probably the best she’s felt since after Mount Weather. She likes talking to the girls, likes laughing and gossiping like they’re normal teenagers and not a leader, mechanic, and warrior.

They settle into a calming sort of silence, Raven tinkering with something while Octavia plays with something sharp. Clarke watches the sun get lower and lower outside the window. She stands.

At the door, Raven calls out, “Hey Clarke?”

The blonde turns, running a hand through her hair and offering a small smile. “Yeah?”

Raven’s mouth turns up slightly, something bitter and sad. “When you like someone...you just kind of know. So go with your instincts; they haven’t led you wrong yet, have they?”

Clarke thinks of her wariness of Bellamy at first, of the way they grew to know each other better than either of them thought. She thinks of how bad she felt about Mount Weather and helping Anya escape, of killing Finn so he didn’t suffer at the hands of hundreds. Of risking the few for the many in Tondc. They may not have made sense at the time, or they may have hurt, but, no, Raven is right, they haven’t led her wrong.

* * *

 

She sits on her bed, crossing her legs and trying to look for all intents and purposes like she is in charge here. It must work, because Lexa straightens and Bellamy glares.

“Lay out your demands,” Clarke says with a wave of her hand, feigning disinterest. She doesn’t miss Lexa’s small grin, or Bellamy’s smirk.

“Your ours,” Lexa murmurs, and Bellamy finishes with a quiet, “And we’re yours, I guess?”

Clarke flushes a deep, dark red. Her skin feels hot, but in a good way. It feels good to be talked about this way. To be something to someone other than a leader or a daughter or a friend. A lover. The word used to make her wince, but now...

“And what about the two of you?” She asks, ignoring the way Lexa turns subtly away from Bellamy, or how he looks taken aback by her question. Well then...

“Ooookay,” Clarke rolls her eyes. “So how would this work?”

They wear matching smiles, and Clarke wonders what she’s gotten herself into.

* * *

 

So, things work. Better than Clarke thought they would, which isn’t saying much since she didn’t have much faith in it to begin with.

Currently she is making out with Lexa, and it’s very nice. Like, more than nice. But there is also something else missing, and she feels the same way when she kisses Bellamy. She likes both of them, enjoys being around them and with them, but there is always something off, or something missing. She wonders if maybe she needs to kiss both of them at the same time? Butterflies explode in her belly so she figures that’s probably a good solution, but she would one hundred percent have to convince both of them to be okay with that. Which they probably wouldn’t be, because as far as Clarke knows, their friendliness does not really extend beyond being very good strategic planners and liking Clarke.

So, there is that.

Lexa pulls away with Clarke with a dirty look on her face. Not the good kind, but the kind that asks, why are you not kissing me back properly?

“What’s on your mind, Clarke?” Has she mentioned how much she loves Lexa’s voice and the way her lips and tongue wrap around Clarke’s name? Because she does. She really, really does.

“Nothing,” Clarke says, leaning up to kiss her again. She needs to plan this out better before setting her trap, or it’ll never fly.

* * *

 

Raven says, “wait, is that not what you idiots are doing? What the fuck?”

Clarke sighs, because she knows.

* * *

 

Bellamy has his face buried in her crotch, which feels good--great, even!--but she can’t stop thinking about how nice he would look between Lexa’s legs, or how good he would look between her and Lexa, or really she can’t stop thinking about Lexa. And Bellamy. Together and naked and with Clarke watching or participating.

They have ruined her, and they probably don’t even realize it, wow.

Bellamy looks up when Clarke comes with just a breathy whisper instead of her usual hair-gripping and loud whine. “Are you alright, princess?”

His mouth his wet. Obscenely wet. Sweet gods.

Clarke leans up on her elbows, smiling slightly, “of course, Bell. Come up here.”

 

* * *

 

She begins to notice the way they look at each other when they’re in the same vicinity. Lexa looks hungry sometimes, like she could eat Bellamy for breakfast. Bellamy looks sly and curious. Clarke gets very hot when this happens, and thanks anyone and everyone for winter still being a thing on Earth.

* * *

 

They’re sitting around Clarke’s tent one night, planning a trip to the sea when the weather starts to turn into something they can travel in. Since it’s not really an important thing at the moment, it’s just the three of them with a guard outside the tent for Lexa’s safety, not that either of them would hurt her.

Clarke decides that now is probably her best chance to bring up her proposition. Lexa has a hand on her thigh and Bellamy is leaning against her, tired from being on the walls for the last five hours. The light is low in her tent and it’s all very cozy.

With a small breath, Clarke shuffles out from between them. Bellamy loses his balance and knocks his head against Lexa’s who was also apparently leaning on Clarke. Whoops.

Both of them clap a hand to their foreheads, glaring at Clarke. She smiles. “I have an idea.”

“No,” the say in unison, glancing at each other and smirking. Assholes.

“Really,” Clarke says, dropping the sweater from around her shoulders. She doesn’t know who gave it to her or where she found it, but it’s big and comfy. Underneath it, she is in a very thin piece of cloth that covers her breasts and is also a bit translucent. Two pairs of eyes stare. “I have an idea. You two should kiss.”

“Why?” Lexa tilts her head, but doesn’t look opposed. Bellamy looks thoughtful and says nothing.

Preparing her speech voice and straightening her back so her breasts look better, Clarke begins. “So, lately I have been feeling weird while I was with both of you. I haven’t really understood what it was, but several dreams and a very nosy mechanic has lead me to believe that the solution to my problem would be if we were all intimate with each other.” She finishes with her hands in her lap, quickly undoing her button. “If...if everyone is alright with this. If not I’m alright with just...doing what we do.”

“But you’re unhappy?” Lexa sounds small and looks small. Something sharp stabs Clarke in the chest and she wishes (or rather, allows herself to wish) for the first time in a while that Finn were here. He was always much better at peace and negotiating with people.

“No,” Clarke softens her tone, leaning forward to grab Lexa’s hand. It’s scarred and calloused but still long and slender. Clarke loves her hands. “I’m so happy. I just want you two to be happy to. I want everyone to be happy with each other, and I think if we give it a shot...”

Lexa meets Clarke’s eyes. She says in her own language, “I have never been with a man before.”

Bellamy doesn’t know the language, but Clarke does. Lexa’s been teaching her, and she links their fingers together. She’s about to tell her to forget it, to tell both of them to forget it, but Lexa’s eyes shift from Clarke’s and meet Bellamy’s, and her face is softer than before. “But I may be willing to try it.”

Bellamy and Lexa seem to have a conversation that way, deciding something, before they both nod.

Bellamy says, “We’ll try it. See how things work.”

Lexa nods, small smile on her face. Clarke looks at both of them, at their freckles and their eyes and their crazy, ridiculous hair. She...she is really happy, whether they do this or not.

“Okay,” she says, clearing her throat. Get a hold of yourself. Leaning back on her arms, Clarke shakes her hair away from her face. “Have at it, then.”

* * *

 

The ocean is ridiculously pretty.

Octavia whoops when she reaches the beach, clothing and shoes flying every which way as she races across the sand and toward the waves, Lincoln trailing after her and following her example. Raven stands a little bit away, Monty, Jasper, Miller, and a dozen more of the Delinquents beside them. Some are stripping down, some are crying.

Raven looks happy, with the wind against her face and the sun shining in her eyes.

Beside Clarke, Lexa shakes her head, arms crossed over her chest. “You’d think they never saw water before.”

“We haven’t seen the ocean, smart ass,” Bellamy laughs on Clarke’s other side, shrugging off his own shirt. Both Lexa and Clarke’s eyes trail down his tanned, freckled chest. Lexa nudges her in the ribs, and Clarke turns to watch the Commander begin to take off her own clothes. They have no shame.

“Are you coming, Clarke?” Lexa asks as she and Bellamy start toward the water, both mischievous and sexy as hell.

With a sigh, Clarke pulls off her own shirt, “I suppose.”

They each grab a hand, and pull her into the waves.

  
  



End file.
